Pop 'stache

Day 2

I got up earlier on Saturday. Bags under eyes be damned, I was going to get my Lollapalooza on early. I read an article on Spin about Ximena Sariñana, and she played at the crack of noon. So by 10:30 I was out the door. Sariñana had a talented backing band and some catchy songs. Perhaps it was still too early or maybe I was still in a sleepy cynicism, but her voice didn’t have the commanding strength or control to lead this group of talented musicians. I didn’t last more than four songs before I was off to the muddy dance party that is Walk the Moon.

I wasn’t crazy about this band either, but I could see why others were. Their tunage was infectious, as shirtless bros and flower children joined together in finger-painting expression. My friends were also enjoying themselves. When I discovered this was the result of another round of paint thinning screwdrivers, I decided it wasn’t too early to loosen up. One swig and I too was contemplating smearing blue paint on my face. Just as my feet unglued from the mud, Walk the Moon took off and left the crowd to Phantogram, whom I knew nothing about except for a glowing recommendation from my much hipper friend.

Phantogram didn’t look like much, but got rolling within two to three songs. Soon, dissonant melodies swept over the sun-soaked field, providing a nice contrast to the early morning moonwalk. Josh Carter and Sarah Barthel may have learned a thing or two from The Kills’ earlier years, as the seeming tension on stage mixed with the darker electro-pop rock added elements of intrigue to their music.

Deftones took the PlayStation stage in the late afternoon after the crowd from what seemed like an awesome set from Death From Above 1979 poured in. The band and the fans did not disappoint. The next hour was an alt-metal extravaganza, with Chino Moreno and the boys relying equally on older hits (including a very successful version of “Passenger” sans any special guests) as material from their latest, Diamond Eyes. The energy was perfect, as the in-shape Chino bounced around the stage giving that hell-banshee scream of his plenty of practice against Abe Cunningham’s masterful rock drumming. It was over as soon as it started. I lost some weight in the thick of it, and I determined to get it back in the famed food court on the way to the South stages for Cee Lo Green and Eminem.

As soon as Cee Lo took the stage, I wondered if I made my biggest mistake all weekend. Cee Lo’s set was miserable and sucky, and also boring, uninspired, and unworthy. Jabba the Hutt raided the closet of the Legion of Doom and brought his Leia slaves with him. Cee Lo was all but booed off and Atmosphere turned the dial from one to 11. The band was charming, funny, heavy and the quintessential performer. Even without his backing tracks and band, he could have been on stage alone mixing stand-up comedy with beat poetry and provide the perfect lead-in for Eminem’s big comeback.

And it was big. The lights went out in Grant Park, and after a brief introductory video explaining Em’s troubles in recent years, the rapper exploded onto the stage in front of the biggest crowd any performer would see that weekend and few would see in a lifetime.

Attendance estimates for Slim’s show started at 60,000 and climbed. From my vantage point on a hill to the right of the stage, it seemed the sea of people opened into an ocean. Each person reacting to every chorus and prompt of “Chicago!” Eminem managed to squeeze every hit I remember along with some of the fantastic material from his most recent album, The Recovery. He brought out special guests Bruno Mars and Skylar Grey, and tore through his 90-minute set with the help of his right-hand-man, Mr. Porter. Interestingly, it seemed Eminem never finished a song, but gave the massive crowd just the right amount of each hit. Two verses, two anthemic choruses and on to the next jam. This method allowed him to play more songs in a shorter time slot. In his few extended interactions with the crowd, I was surprised that this man who always seemed sharpened and hardened by his upbringing and recent experiences was incredibly humbled by his fans. Eminem brought everything in his arsenal to the Lolla mainstage, and my guess is that it will go down as one of the greatest the festival has ever seen.

It was a disaster getting out of the field competing with however many tens of thousands. Within two hours and a cold shower later, I dragged my swollen feet and hoarse voice into bed, ready for one more day. I was out of shiny Christmas metaphors. Tomorrow, as it turned out, would be a battle.